#enjoy having the moon whispering in ur ear for the rest of yer life boy

[pinkwindowwithin]

Behold… THE NEW VESSEL OF THE MOON!!! (Varian is not pleased.) ALSO ART DUMP CUZ WHY NOT

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Welcome to this Day

Bombur left his pregnant wife behind, joining his brother and cousin as they ventured to Erebor for the chance at a better life.

Features some OCs from the Dwelf-’verse

word count: ~1300.

2890: Bolbur, Bombur & Athalrún’s oldest child, is born.

2895: Blidarún is born.

2911: Blákur is born

2915: Fjelarún and Athalrós the second are born. Athalrós is still-born.

2935: Borkur is born

2941: Bomba is born

Looking at the calendar she used to mark the days and months since Bombur had waved goodbye, Athalrún was not surprised to feel a pang in her lower back.

“It is time, my little pebble,” she whispered, rubbing her large belly. “You and I… we can do this, you hear?”

When Dís arrived, fetched by a remarkably calm Bolbur, Vakrí was already sitting in Athalrún’s kitchen, sipping tea. Vár entered the house behind her cousin, snatching a cup as well.

“You look quite relaxed, Vakrí,” Dís remarked, pouring her own cup and adding a small spoonful of honey to the dark brew.

“This is not my first pebble, Dís,” Athalrún said behind her, “and I have born enough into this world to know there is time yet. She feels slow, but easy. Like Blidarún,” she chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair with a smile. “Now, Blákur, he was terrible. Almost two days before he wanted to come out and meet us,” she mused, wincing slightly when another contraction hit. “But this wee Bomba and I have an agreement. She’s not going to be trouble, and I’m not going to punch her adad when I see him next.”

Dís couldn’t help it; she laughed. Behind her, Vár was not muffling her chuckles at all.

“Ahhh, but they’re fun to make, no?” she guffawed, and Dís could only agree, a sting of jealousy at the thought following the familiar yearning for the dwarf who should have been with her but hadn’t been for 78 years, 7 months and… 17 days. “You have so many; yours must be particularly fun,” Vár winked, while Blidarún was pretending not to hear her and Athalrún simply smiled the smile of a happily married dwarrowdam. Vakrí cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. Vár grinned. She liked the lad, considering him a sort of unofficial nephew…which in her family came with teasing and taking the mickey when opportunity arose. “I know I miss my Glóin… that tongue,” another ribald wink – Vakrí was turning red around the ears – before Vár subsided in her mirth.

Dís shook her head fondly. Vár was a terror, but she wouldn’t change her for all the gold in Erebor.

  Today was the day. Bombur felt inexplicably nervous, snapping at anyone who talked to him as he waited. It was ridiculous, of course, but he did it anyway, finding the tallest vantage point in this Mahal-forsaken Elven dwelling. As he sat there, staring north-west, Bombur was not surprised that Bifur joined him shortly after noon, Bofur showing up an hour or so later. 

"She'll-they'll be fine," Bofur said, trying to make himself believe the words. Bifur hummed soft agreement.

"We can't know that," Bombur replied, and his brother fell silent. The three sat together until the moon had long since passed overhead. 

"Congratulations," Bofur whispered, after hours of silence. He squeezed his brother's hand tightly. "Yer an adad...again."

"I suppose so," Bombur sighed, appreciating the sentiment even if the distance between where he was and where Athalrún was bringing their daughter into the world hurt him. "I hope..." he couldn't bring himself to say it, feeling almost as though speaking the words would be tempting fate.

"We know," Bofur whispered, while Bifur wrapped them both in a warm hug.

The birth was as easy as Athalrún had foreseen, though not as quick as she might have liked, the time-candle having burned almost to the midnight mark before the unhappy squalling of a newborn pebble filled the room.

“A healthy daughter, Mistress Athalrún,” Vakrí declared, handing the pebble to Athalrún after he was finished cleaning and examining the small pebble. Blidarún was the only one still awake, too excited by witnessing her first birth close up to fall asleep though her younger siblings were sleeping peacefully wherever they happened to be when sleep found them. Dís smiled to see Blákur curled around Fjelarún, his head still resting on the storybook he’d been reading before they fell asleep. Gently, she picked up one small body after the other, returning them to their beds, and reassuring Fjelarún – who was the only one to wake – that her amad and sister were both fine and would be waiting for her in the morning. When she returned to the bedroom, Athalrún was absorbed in cooing at her new daughter, Vár was staring into thin air with an odd expression on her face and Vakrí was handling the practical mess that came with the process.

“She’s beautiful, Athalrún,” Dís whispered, missing her own boys fiercely. “What’s her name?”

“Dís, I think I’m pregnant,” Vár whispered, interrupting Athalrún before she could answer. Dís stared. In her head, she began counting.

“I think it’s possible,” came Athalrún’s voice – by far the most experienced of them at recognizing the symptoms. “I just didn’t think you could? I mean, after Gimli…” she trailed off, awkwardly. Vár nodded.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” Vár replied, seeming unsure. Then her resolve hardened once more. “I’m going to kill Glóin!”

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d enjoyed making it?” Athalrún teased. “It’ll be well, Vár, you’ll see. And, now you can have the excuse to hit your husband when you see him next!” she gave Vár a devilish smile, and though the dark-haired dam’s reply was a bit wan, it was still a proper smile.

“I need a drink,” Dís heard herself say, surprisingly loudly.

The three adults in the room stared at her for a moment, before they all burst into laughter.

“Hear that, Bomba? Not even an hour old, and already Auntie Dís has been driven to drink. You’ll go far, my lass, you will,” Athalrún said, quietly chuckling.

“I’m still going to kill Glóin for going on that stupid Quest,” Vár groused, but she was smiling too. “We both wanted more but…”

“Sleep on it,” was Athalrún’s sage advice. “It’s always overwhelming when you suddenly know. We can plot ways to kill absent husbands tomorrow.”

“To expectant mothers,” Dís raised her glass towards Vár, who blushed darkly, “and to new wonders,” she smiled softly at the sleeping pebble.

“Hear, hear,” they chorused.

  As they walked back to Dís’ house, Vár stopped in the middle of the road. “You know, we should move in with you,” she said, thoughtfully. Dís shot her a questioning look. “While I’m still allowed to carry things,” Vár clarified. “You’re not making me do this alone.”

Dís squeezed her hand. “We’ll move your things over in the morning.”

  Much later, after they had tiredly climbed into bed – both feeling a need for the comfort of another body beside them – Dís heard her cousin mutter quietly to herself, “I’m going to kill Glóin!”

  It was a sentence she’d hear often over the next few months, as Vár’s revelation proved true.

  When they made it back to the courtyard where the Company had made camp, the three 'Ur's were greeted by sombre silence. One by one, the dwarrow came over, squeezing Bombur's hand or patting his shoulder. 

"I have asked Lord Elrond to send any letters from us to my sister," Thorin said, the last to offer his support. "I know Dís will have taken good care of Athalrún, and although we will not be able to receive a reply, I'm sure your wife would appreciate knowing that we have come this far in safety."

Bombur had not actually considered that their hosts might be willing to play mail carriers, but the offer made him smile, grateful that Thorin had thought to ask, bending his pride for the sake of the ones the Company left behind.

"Thank you, Thorin Uzbad," he replied, a little shaky. "Will you do the honours?" 

Thorin nodded gravely. Turning to face the Company once more, he spoke the Khuzdul words to welcome the new pebble to this life, while Bifur's voice rose in a gentle song, wishing good health for mother and child. 

When the small ceremony was complete, each Companion returned to his bedroll in sombre silence. Even Fíli and Kíli respected the struggle for new life to which they were paying homage. 

Bombur himself stayed awake throughout the dark hours, praying. Mahal, let her be safe, her and the pebble. Watch over my family on this night and the ones to come...